Years ago when Hurricane Katrina whipped through the area, she left little behind that was recognizable. Things around here were pretty much obliterated. We were among the fortunate as the Little Bayou House withstood the ravages of the storm. It had major damage but was still home. We tore down what was needed, repaired and rebuilt. The land, however, was in total destruction. Huge ruts were washed in the hillside, over a hundred large trees were down and there was nary a bit of green left anywhere. The house has been mostly restored and Mother Nature has done a remarkable job of mending her wounds. Things are different but the place is pretty much back to normal. Whatever that is.
One thing that Katrina took was the Spanish Moss that draped each old oak tree. The moss gave character the the Live Oaks that dot the hillside. Where and how, the storm took the moss is beyond me. It was just gone...never to be seen again. I so missed this icon of the Deep South. I yearned to have it wafting in the Bay breezes, so much so, that I envied places that still had it and threatened to swipe a bit!
I tried draping the moss from a florist shop in the trees but, obviously, that was a moot point. Their Spanish Moss is treated and is not still living. I bemoaned the fact that my trees were bare! Then, the same waters that were churned by the hurricane, brought in a replacement. Being just a tropical storm, the surge was not nearly as intense as Katrina's but gave just enough high tide to throw a few things into the yard. As I was cleaning the mess, a bit of tangled moss caught my eye. Spanish Moss! A small clump had been flung from a tree across the Bay and rode the waves to the front yard!
I was not sure if being dunked in salt water would kill the moss or not but I had to try. I rinsed the moss and tossed it into the low-lying limbs of my favorite Live Oak tree!! For months, the tendrils seemed to be drying out which saddened me. Today, however, a bit of life could be seen returning to the clump! Oh, my goodness! It almost felt like I was finally coming home!
Hopefully, the Spanish Moss will continue to grow and actually thrive in the oak tree. It would be grand to have the trees all dripping with the long tendrils of greenish-gray moss once again. I know it is a small thing but it means the world to me!
A long, long time ago, I sat on a step weeping over the passing of my grandmother. While the adults were discussing important things, I was sort of left to deal with this blow by myself. To be honest, I had no idea of how to cope with such a loss. Never before had anyone close to me died. I was shocked, saddened and, to be honest, scared. Sure, growing up on the farm, we saw our share of death but this was different. THIS was my grandmother...the lady who told me sweet stories about the flowers in her gardens....the lady who soothed my bedtime fears with a cup of milk and a couple of cookies served in her finest teacups....the lady who was the epitome of the perfect Southern grandmother. She could not leave this world without me. Her passing was such a shock. I knew she was ill but no one told me that it had come to this. When we arrived at my grandparents' home, I was told to "Go sit outside. Grandmother has died and we (meaning the adults) need to talk." So, I went to the steps to grieve in my own confused way.
After being there for a short time, my Aunt Marie (who lived next door) came to console me. She talked with me a great while as we sat together on the steps. Aunt Marie explained a lot of things that had never been discussed before. She explained death in a beautiful way and helped me to accept what had happened. Then, she just sat beside me and let me grieve. Her presence was so comforting.
One of the things Aunt Marie told me has stuck with me for a lifetime. She compared life to the sunrises and sunsets that we observe here on the Bayou. The sunrises are the start of a new day. We go about our business during the day and make life the best it can be. Then comes the sunset and we are given rest from our daily trials and frustrations. We always have the idea that morning will come anew and we will have a fresh start. Sunrise gives us hope for eternal life...that our lives will begin again. Sunsets are compared to the end of our earthly life. Just like a day ending being a time for rest, death is the ending of our time here and we are to be given peace. At the time, I was listening to words...words spilling from the mouth of someone who cared that this kid was confused and hurting. Aunt Marie took the time to try to explain life and death the best she could under the circumstances. She did good. I felt better knowing that Grandmother was not in pain any longer and that there was a great possibility that I would see her again some day. It felt good knowing that someone recognized the fact that, even though I was just a kid, I had feelings.
This morning's sunrise was particularly beautiful and it brought back the memory of Aunt Marie helping me through a difficult time. I miss her even after all of these years after her death. Even though the sunrise brought a memory of a sad time, I looked at it as a beautiful time in my life. So, Aunt Marie, if you are up there listening to me ramble, this sunrise is for you and all of the guidance you proffered so many years ago. Hopefully, we will meet again some day, too.
Every now and again, things can get you down to where you have a bit of the blues. Well, mine are more blues, purples and greens. Yep, it has been done. Darling Daughter came over today and said "Mom Mom...lets dye your hair!" I have never had my hair dyed before in my life so I figured it might be interesting. She took out her scissors and gave me a much needed hair cut then started the procedure. I asked how many times she had done this before and she shrugged her shoulders and said "Once...counting today!" Hmmm...ok..I trusted her when she wanted to cut my hair when she was a 9 year old so I guess letting her dye the hair now that she is an adult was no different. Now my hair is a lovely shade of blue...and purple....and neon green. You might live on a bayou if your hair matches the water! I do...mine does!
The whole deal with this hair dying experience really had nothing to do with the color. It was all about taking that one huge step out of my comfort zone where I was beginning to feel boxed and crated. If it took having "mermaid" hair, so be it. I am good with it. I took that first step and plan on hiking forward from this point. Yep, I know that there will be times that the going will be slow and even those where I will want to turn back but, nope, ain't happening! I am excited about this!
I fully expected Elizabeth to be supportive and love the hair but when my son-in-law, Robbie, gave rave reviews and Son gave a thumb's up, my bit of queasiness started to ease. Tonight as I looked in the mirror, I gave myself a thumb's up. I love it! Now...hopefully, Mark won't look at me as being slap batty! My huge step forward is just the first of many, I hope! Embrace that weirdness!
Every now and again, a person needs to step back and take a breather from what he is doing. Things can come to a grinding halt if they begin to feel overwhelming. Remodeling is a lot like that. What starts as a minor touch up of paint soon becomes an entirely consuming ordeal. My situation started when the siding was being replaced near the front door. Son asked if I was particularly "attached" to the windows or could he remove them. They were rotted from exposure to hurricanes and the high humidity found on the Bayou. Once the windows were removed, it led to the door being ousted as well. Then, the whole shebang of redoing the inside was set in motion. For the past two weeks, I have spent every waking hour, it seems, on the top of a ten foot tall step ladder. You do what you have to do. This morning, however, I needed a break! I just could go no more. So, I took a hike to gather the thoughts.
As I sat on the pier at daybreak, I had the revelation that I was doing it again. I was "playing it safe" and trying to satisfy everyone else's idea of what is acceptable. I figured that if I am going to be happy, I need to step out of that safe zone and do what makes me happy. That is easier said than done, though, and I needed some reassurance that my decision was the right one. Just at that moment, a heron flew in to sit with me on the pier. I had been photographing the bird as it sat on my brother's pier and never expected the bird to come so near. So...the bird and I sat just a foot apart enjoying the dawn of a new day and a new experience. Neither of us made an effort to move or to acknowledge the other. We just sat.
Was the bird telling me that my decision was correct? Was it trying to tell me I was ok just being me? Hey, if you ask for a sign, you take whatever you get. In my mind, the bird was definitely an omen that things were right with the world. Now...back to work.
